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Shiny Black Blazers and Itchy Beagles

It is done. The Amazon has a "new" 1989 Blazer (not a Bronco, as previously reported, may the Chevrolet gods forgive me.) Granted, it's only four years younger than she is, but it's got a new/rebuilt motor, a brand new shiny black paint job, tiny blue fog lights and it runs.

And the price was definitely right.

Hallee-freakin-loo-ya.

The only downside is that she bought it from the town cop, so she'll never get away with anything. I predict that once it's spotted in my driveway for a few days, the rumor mill will start churning over a suspected affair between me and Thelma's Bubbahubby.

In other news...

I had to run to the Tractor Supply after work last night to pick up some Happy Jack mange stuff.

You might be a redneck.

It pains me to admit this, but I could stay in Tractor Supply for hours, just looking at Breyer horses, fondling the bridles and saddle blankets with that wistful look in my eye, examining the selection of buckets, tools and truck tool boxes.

I went in search of the Happy Jack mange stuff when Sammy, the formerly hairless Boston Baked Beagle was taken off steroids by the vet because he looked like he was going to explode and immediately returned to scratching, digging and going hairless again.

It doesn't take a degree in veterinary medicine to realize that the 'roids and the antihistamines aren't doing a flipping thing. I'm tired of assing around with these people. The dog has mange mites.

I'm happy to report that my crud is somewhat better. I still sound kinda raspy, I'm thinking of forming a Fleetwood Mac cover band where I can put my Stevie Nicks impression to good use. I still have the occasional spasmic coughing attack between 3-4 every afternoon, but I got me a ginormous bottle of Tussin last night.

Nector of the gods.

Anywho, I'd reckon I should go do some actual work since like.. they're paying me and stuff. Ya'll have an awesometastic humpday. We'll talk again soon.